The Rain, It Pours
by LissyWrites
Summary: Shiori wants nothing more than to just talk, but when the one person she wants to talk to refuses to utter a word, she finds herself questioning if she should even remain in the village. Then, news of Suga's imminent removal as proprietor of the museum reaches Shiori, and now she must help Suga find his voice before he loses her and the museum. Spiritual prequel to Say Something.
1. Chapter 1

**The Rain, It Pours**

**(A spiritual prequel to my fic _Say Something_)**

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><p>It was a rainy day when he finally sat her down to talk. It had been... how long? It had been days, surely, but perhaps even weeks. A month... who knows? She surely didn't. Just sitting at the kitchen table, burnt fish on her plate and him mindlessly chopping his up across from her, felt like eternity.<p>

When was the last time it had rained?

She couldn't seem to recall, and it left a lingering bad taste in her mouth whenever she found her memories empty.

Her sense of time had been stunted sometime ago, and if she could, she would be able to pinpoint the exact moment, but no... that memory had long been washed away by the rain outside, down a drain somewhere in town, never to be found again. Damn, when it rained, it poured. The roof whined from above, and Shiori couldn't help looking up to watch the drops pound against the metal roof. They would never break through, though never stopped trying.

Then there was a sound of scratching, ripping and a silhouette pulled her attention from the roof back to her untouched ash-fish. There, placed carefully by her hand was a little memo with extremely familiar handwriting. Her eyes shifted up to Suga, but he was already shoving a piece of burnt fish in his mouth, too focused on the contents of his fork to meet her gaze.

Sometimes, he was so quiet, she forgot he was there at all. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She was so glad he was _there_. She just wished she could remember what his voice sounded like, and if she liked it or not. She thought she did.

Shiori plucked the note from the table,

'What are you looking at?'

Her face flushed, and she pressed a shy hand against her cheek, soaking the heat from her cheek into her hand, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"The rain..."

This time his eyes flashed up to hers, meeting for an instant with a small, tight smile, then even his white skin flushed pink before his eyes quickly returned to his plate. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but it was so strange to reply out loud when all he would do was write in response.

She longed for a pen, but even more so, she just longed for him to speak. She stared down longingly at her lap where her hands rested with his crumpled note. If only she could remember what all she wanted to say, maybe all of this wouldn't be so hard.

Another scratching sound, ripping, and when she looked up, there was another note.

'Why?'

Her heart thumped in her chest and her face was warming by the second. Then, she remembered the rain. How silly. He wouldn't be able to read her mind, there was no way he could ask her why she had so much to say and why it would be so hard to say it. In all honesty, she didn't even know what she would say back. Shiori stared for a long time at the paper, trying to come up with a good response, but only silence felt comfortable. She looked across the table where Suga clutched a pen, poised over a pad of memos. He wasn't looking at her, but the way he stared at the paper, eyes narrowed, forehead wrinkled, she knew he was waiting on her response. So much for "talking."

With new found frustration, she slid his note off the table and placed it, balled up, in her lap with the other one before picking up her utensils and digging into her own fish. Her eyes rested solely on her meal, but his gaze on her was like a weight. He was surely confused, or maybe just still curious... there was no telling, and he certainly wouldn't be telling her unless he could write it down. The ash-fish stuck to the roof of her mouth and coated her tongue in a thin film she didn't think would go away until tomorrow.

She heard scratching and ripping again, but before he could slide it to her side of the table, Shiori picked up her plate, carried it over to the garbage where she scraped off the rest of the fish and set the black smudged plate on the counter. She would wash it later, she swore to herself, but she was terribly tired.

She made it a point not to look at him as she left the kitchen, and went back to the living room... or museum foyer, depending on whether someone were to actually visit or not. It was rare anyone ever did, even though the town was booming with new excavations and history being dug up in the mountains. New things were being uncovered all the time and brought to the museum for display, yet no one really cared to relive the horrors which made the town what it was today. Shiori surely didn't, but she longed for someone to just share those memories with... to relay everything to someone who might understand and listen. That's what she really wanted: someone to just listen.

But for now, she was content just listening to her own thoughts. Shiori shut her eyes, leaned back, and allowed her mind to wander, to remember why she had remained at the museum in the first place, and to decide if it was even worth it.

Until, there was a knock on the front door.

Her eyes shot open. Why would someone knock? Sure, it was a house, but it was also a museum. People could come and go as they pleased as long as they were open. Something didn't feel right.

Her heart thumped in her chest, rhythmic and quick, not unlike the rain on the roof. It rang so loud in her ears, she could scarcely tell the difference. Her eyes flicked to the hallway where she knew Suga was, waiting in the kitchen. Had he heard the door? Would he be as worried as she was?

She waited a few more seconds before another knock sounded, and she realized Suga wasn't coming. Hesitantly, she stood up and walked to the door. Sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead, and she unsuccessfully attempted to wipe them away only to have more appear in their place. Her damp hands slid as she gripped the door handle and pulled it open to which she found the mayor of the town, pink slip in one hand, umbrella in the other.

"Mrs. Kanzaki? What a nice surprise. Is Suga in?"

Though she spoke to the mayor, her eyes were stuck on the pink slip where Suga's name was haphazardly scrawled. Wasn't pink supposed to be a friendly color?

"No. Can I help you, sir?"

The mayor cleared his throat and thrust the paper out to Shiori which she took with shaking hands, catching a few of the rain droplets on the page as it was transferred from one hand to the other.

"If you will, please see that he gets this. In regards to the museum, since you relinquished your rights as owner to Suga and he established this as a town museum for the public, our council has decided his role as proprietor and host is insufficient with the town's needs. His contract with the town has been terminated. We will be interviewing for his replacement in the coming weeks."

The mayor lifted his hat as a farewell before turning and marching out into the rain. Shiori stood frozen, gripping the damp paper in her hands, shaking. She wanted to scream after him, to stop him, to demand answers, but her voice was gone. She was silent. There were steps. Her eyes flicked over to the hallway where Suga stood, his eyes wide and his hands gripping a memo - the one she had left only a few moments ago.

Shiori looked to the paper in her hands again, and noted how the rain looked like tears. Even the sky was in mourning as the rain seemed to increase in strength. She read over all that the mayor had already explained, then noted at the bottom was their deadline.

'2 weeks.'

They had two weeks to prove Suga could handle it. She looked at him again, and found even his eyes were beginning to swell with their own rain... and like rain, his tears fell.

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><p><strong>Hello everyone! I'm honestly not sure why I love this fandom and these characters so much, but I am absolutely obsessed. I plan on continuing the future of this couple, but first I feel like we needed some back-story. I want to go back before <em>Say Something<em> and show how they even came together in the first place. I'm hesitant to say this is an official prequel because I'm not sure how well all of these stories will go with one another, but I'd like to think they have some importance when read in a specific timeline.**

**Regardless, I hope you enjoy. There shall be more!**

**-Lissy**


	2. Chapter 2

Suga was still in the living room when Shiori finally retired to her bedroom. She was sure he was still reading that pink note, over and over and over again, as if something might change if he just kept willing it to. Even he wasn't confident in his own abilities, and Shiori was already planning on what she would do when they came to take the museum.

Yet, even as she accepted defeat, the note from earlier was still propped up on her nightstand. So, when she turned her head, she was forced to read it over and over again.

'Please don't be angry with me.  
>I have so much I want to say.'<p>

What did he want to say? Why wouldn't he just say it? Shiori groaned as she covered her face with her hands, trying her best to hide.

"Why won't you just say it?"

She could just picture him scribbling away in response. Perhaps his next note would have been a sweet, innocent 'I don't know how' or 'I'm scared of what you'll think.' But the more she thought about it, the sillier it all seemed. It would be something cold, probably something short, like 'Let me think' or 'Don't worry about it.'

Shiori groaned again and scrubbed her face.

And what if he had actually spoken? Her stomach felt just about as knotted as her mind was, and she didn't think it was all because of the burnt fish. She wished she could go back, relive it, and try again. She wouldn't have left the table. She would've read his notes and responded. There had to be a better way. Something just had to give, and it would have to give fast. Both Shiori and Suga would leave the museum, or… well, she wasn't quite sure, but if nothing else, Suga would be staying in the museum.

The key was with Suga. He would have to prove that he could be a great host and proprietor, and he would have to interview. Had he ever been in an interview? How did he even get the museum in the first place?

Shiori couldn't help imagining a silent Suga, alone and having to face life without the basic ability to speak along with the silent, decaying mansion. It was as if they needed each other, really. There probably wasn't a better match in the world than Suga and the mansion.

Again, a twist in her stomach.

"Of course they'd put him here when no one gave a crap about this place… Why would they need 'good customer service' when they had no customers?"

Shiori's head ached, and she found herself going back and forth between just leaving all together or at least staying to see Suga through. Her heart tugged her closer to the latter, but her mind said run. The problem wasn't so much his manners, though those could be worked on a bit more, too, but the fact he still wasn't willing to speak.

No matter how polite his notes were, it was still intimidating to speak to someone who could only write back, especially when you knew he could speak. He just didn't want to, and that was the most frustrating part.

How could Shiori get him to speak to a bunch of strangers when she couldn't even get him to speak to her?

Then, she heard it. It was more or less a grunt, but it was a noise, something that usually wasn't present in the mansion unless she was making it.

Her hands fell from her face, and her eyes immediately went to the door of her room. Was there someone else there, or was it…

Shiori sat up without further thought and rushed out the door, down the hall, and back in the living room where she found Suga, still sitting on the couch. He was hunched over, right shoulder furiously jerking. He had to be writing something. Then he would grunt, his body would freeze, and he'd go right back at it.

Shiori, as silent as she could manage, crept up behind him. Even sitting down, her head barely reached above his. She could scarcely remember as children when she had been just a few inches taller, back when he needed her around to protect him. She physically winced as her heart ached and thrummed in her chest. She pressed a hand, hard against it, hoping Suga hadn't heard.

Thankfully, he didn't turn around. So, she took another step forward, then on tip toes, rose up enough to just barely catch the top of a very thorough, haphazardly scratched up letter, addressed to the 'Mayor and His Committee.'

Shiori didn't hold back the 'hmph' that came up in response.

Suga froze in his writing, then slowly angled his body to face her, hand still poised over the paper.

She crossed her arms, and pursed her lips before asking,

"What are you doing?"

It wasn't until she asked that question that he took his hand away from the letter and began to dig in his pockets for what she knew was a memo pad. She huffed, then launched herself over the couch, much to the surprise of Suga who even let out a loud grunt.

Her mission was simple: Grab the letter, grab his pen, and _make_ him speak.

Though simple in theory, Suga wouldn't let that slide without a fight. With surprise on her side, she did manage to grab the letter, simultaneously landing in Suga's lap, all legs and arms as she struggled to belly slide away. He gripped her by her waist and reached up to grip the other side of the letter. Curse his lanky arms.

She would yank, he would yank. She would yank, he would yank, both crying out in fits of rage and desperation. Ultimately, the paper was the one to give in, ripping until both assailants had an equal piece in their grasps. It was then Suga released Shiori, allowing her to squirm away until she was on the other end of the couch.

Even as she panted and dabbed sweat from her forehead, she was still able to read Suga's pleas for compassion and understanding. As much as she loved Suga's kind, gentle nature, it burned her deeply to see him catering to such people.

She shot him a sidelong glance, just quick enough to catch his lip puckered up, and his eyes locked on the ripped, crumbled page in his lap. He might have cried at any moment had he not caught Shiori's gaze. He pursed his lips, and once again dug out his memo pad. He was going to give her a strong talking-to… or writing-to… or something, but she wasn't going to have that.

She shook her head.

"Oh no. If you want to talk to me. You're going to actually do it… you know. _Talk_."

Suga's gaze shot back up to her. He looked surprised and a little betrayed. He took the crumpled note in his hand and shook it at her, as if to ask,

'Then what the hell was this?'

She sighed and crossed her arms again, that motion growing a bit too comfortable in the past couple of days.

"Do you think they're going to take your letter seriously?"

He gave her a stern head bob.

"Really? Even though their main problem is that you don't speak? If you want to beg, at least use your words… prove to them that you can."

His head shook in response this time, eyes narrowed and lips tucked into a thin line. He was just being stubborn.

Shiori flashed him a smile.

"Fine. If you don't talk. I don't talk, and until you do… I won't be reading, either."

Suga mimicked her pose, crossing his arms and smiling. If it had been any other time, Shiori might have laughed. If nothing else, she would be making him speak before she left.

He would use his voice.


	3. Chapter 3

First thing was first.

She _had_ to get him out of the museum, which, after taking her vow of silence, was much harder than she had anticipated. She tried leading by example, going to her bedroom, putting her hair up, dabbing on a thin layer of makeup, and even switching into public worthy attire, but when she came back to the living room, there Suga sat. He was reclined on the couch, nose buried deep in a book. Shiori couldn't make out the title, but by the way Suga's long, slender hands grasped the full length of the spine, it seemed like something short - nothing too time consuming.

It was just like Suga to be reading when the roof over his head was questionably unsound. She shook her head in disapproval, and did her best not to grumble along with the motion, but couldn't help finding the sight a bit comforting. He was just so comfortable there. She couldn't imagine anyone else sitting there, with that book, with that smooth face and focused eyes.

Yet, there was a strong possibility there would be someone else. She had to make sure that wouldn't happen.

So, she marched over to the perfect, little scene and stopped right in front of him, arms crossed. He peered up at her from behind his book. He nodded towards her, then motioned toward her outfit. She shook her head, refusing to respond. It would take much more than an inquiry about her clothes to get her to speak, even if he looked adorable behind a book.

He sighed, then closed his eyes, as if in meditation. Then, finally, opened his mouth.

"The... outfit?"

Shiori couldn't hold back the smile. She nodded in approval before motioning for the door. Suga followed her motions, but the moment his eyes lighted on the door, he was already shaking his head in refusal.

"... No... where...? Why?"

She shook her head. There wouldn't be answers, not until they were out the door anyway. This was proving to be a successful tactic, and she couldn't help feeling a bit smug about it. He opened his mouth again, brows cinched together, preparing for another refusal, but Shiori wouldn't give him the chance. She plucked the book from his grip, leaving his hand to flail in shock between them. She gripped it in both of her's to then tug him up from the couch. Suga's mouth hurriedly tried to form words, but all he could manage were uncomfortable, shocked sounds.

It didn't take much to drag him to the door, but once there, he managed to regain some form of consciousness. He gripped the door frame and all her efforts came to a halt. Shiori peered back at him, her outside in the lingering mist of rain, him standing firm on the inside. His teeth were clenched, holding back words she was sure he had been forming since she had yanked him up from the couch.

"Why... why are you doing this?"

Shiori thought hard about it, not sure how to answer. The moist air clung to her skin, hot and sticky. It wouldn't be long before it would start raining again. If they left quick enough, they could be the rain. She was sure of it. Finally, she muttered.

"I want to help you."

Suga pursed his lips. Shiori could barely make out the way his teeth chewed and worked on his lips as he mulled over her statement. Finally, he dropped his hand from the door frame and stepped out into the mist with her. She couldn't hold back a small smile as she turned to keep walking, him close behind, hand-in-hand through the mist.

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><p>She gave him the choice. Did he want the small shops, with specialty items rather than full racks of every part of an ensemble, or the little department store. The full-sized store was a bit farther away, but it would have more people, and more opportunities to interact, to work on social skills. Plus, if he chose the small shops, that would require them walking through the impending rain to get from shop to shop, just to make sure they had everything to prepare for his interview. Still, the village shops were familiar, and she was sure he would choose them, but, much to her surprise, he walked past all of them.<p>

She was proud, if not a little worried, too. She couldn't help gazing up at him, wondering how long it had been since he went outside of the village - or even outside of the museum. Her heart ached.

They had just made it to the department store by the time the rain started pouring again, breaking through the hot mist and cooling everything back down to an almost frosty fall day. She shivered from the unfamiliar temperature. For a moment, Suga's hand seemed to grip her's tighter, but she couldn't be sure if it was just her imagination. Shiori didn't think on it much more as they walked through the doors to enter the lobby of the store. People milled about aimlessly, not really looking at anything, as they waited for the rain to let up. Children were squealing at their parent's feet, and parents were grimacing in response. It was all so familiar to Shiori, much like her old home in the city. Suga, on the other hand, tensed, awkwardly stiff as he moved about the people.

Shiori, once the one dragging, was now being dragged through the throng. She watched Suga's muscles tense in his back, rigid and straight, as he tried to find some clear space for them to stand - maybe even just to breathe. He led her all the way to the kitchen ware before the people began to clear and were replaced by shelf after shelf of pots and pans. It was then Suga stopped, took in a deep breathe, and relaxed. It was strange how comfortable he was around so many inanimate objects.

"This... was not such a good idea." He breathed, dabbing the sweat from his forehead.

Shiori shook her head, not in disagreement, but rather because she had known it herself, and she was already regretting it. While she wanted him to break out of his shell, she didn't want to give him anxiety attacks. She wanted to help, not hurt.

"You're right." She wilted. "Maybe we should head back to the museum."

Suga's eyes met her's, and they held that gaze for a long time, both mulling over what the other might possibly be mulling over. Finally, Suga tugged at her hand.

"There are shirts... over here."

Shiori smile, a small, proud smile. Maybe there was a chance after all.


End file.
